ALICENT

Alicent has no desire to make sense of this latest royal decree. But the fact that she has no desire to make sense of it, probably means that she should.

No virgins allowed!

"What is this?" Alicent asks the guards at Rhaenyra's door.

The Hightower guards trade uncomfortable looks before one answers. "Prince Aegon attached it after escorting Prince Daeron from the room.

Unbelievable.

More unbelievable still is when the door fails to open for her. The door is barred. The door to the prisoner's room is barred. The room of the prisoner and her friends who now entertain Alicent's children.

She pounds on the door. "This door should not be sealed! What are you doing in there?"

Aegon's voice comes through. "Uh… incest?"

Though Alicent still rues Ser Criston's temper, she has to admit his enthusiasm regarding Rhaenyra's captivity has its benefits. At his insistence, they'd had this particular door replaced during the first days of Rhaenyra's stay. These new grand double doors are thicker, and divot inwards at the ornate inner border so many doors have. But this border is not decorative.

There's a door within this door. More specifically, a panel that can be removed from the outside.

She slides four seven-pointed stars fixed into the gilded border aside to reveal the keyholes. The grand doors themselves are large enough that this hole allows her through after the men push the crates aside. Alicent enters with one eye closed, and hesitantly scans the room for her children, Rhaenyra, and Rhaenyra's friends.

It's not a simple task, as the room is in a chaotic state whilst they make further renovations. Crates and boxes brought from storage litter the suite whilst Rhaenyra presumably decides what stays and goes. Aemond's unnamed cat, Purrmithor, and even the lazy Pancake have taken it upon themselves to investigate the contents. A brief glance tells Alicent the theme, and she wonders if Aemond would have been so quick to accommodate Rhaenyra's request had he known that, aside from the heirlooms, most of the contents seem to come from the Valyrian and Essosian collections Prince Daemon had curated.

A part of her worries he would have been even more eager, had he known of the connection. This family and that man. Alicent will never understand.

A strange, strong incense fills the room with its scent, even with the windows, and doors to the now-barred balcony wide open. Music from the lyrists in the yard below streams in with the fresh air.

There are no maids to be seen, which means Aemond must be present somewhere, so she continues her search. Various pots and gardening fixtures are strewn around the model area in wait of plants, and Alicent is glad that Rhaenyra at least took her earlier suggestion to heart. The outer bulk of the model had been removed, as well as the very centre. Though she'd been told that part would return here once the stonemasons had made a copy.

Alicent decides to take Rhaenyra's new interest in her comfort as a good sign. Though a better sign would have been to accept their offer, which they'd made at great risk, of her two trueborn sons. And now further work remains in that regard — for Alicent.

The sounds of harried scrambling turn her attention to the corner. The seating area by the fireplace has been expanded. Rugs she could recognize as Volantine now cover the floor, and the regal wooden furniture has been replaced by cushioned benches and luxurious daybeds with curled arms. But those four have not gathered on the furniture. Adjacent to the comparatively civilized seating area, pillows and cushions of colourful textiles line the floor and walls leading into the corner.

Among those pillows and cushions, four Valyrians laze like cats — a painting of a Lysene pillow house come to life. The cloud of strange incense thickens as Alicent approaches, and a blend of mints and tart fruits bound by some kind of exotic, cloying herb clings to her nose and tongue.

"Mother!" Aegon dares to scold her as he lays on his side. "What if we'd actually been having an orgy? I know we're Targaryens, but we do need to draw the line somewhere."

Rhaenyra lounges next to Aemond, and both are a little too relaxed and a little too close for Alicent's tastes. Especially whilst Rhaenyra still wears that dress and that locket, with an even clearer view now, as she apparently had indeed washed her hair, and now wears most of it back in a loose twist of coils and braids to presumably set the hair in waves. "Honestly Alicent," she says. "Don't you ever knock?"

"No," lament Aegon, Aemond and Helaena.

Rhaenyra turns to her siblings and raises the hand of her only good arm. "Then how do you even—"

"With many traumatic memories," Aegon grumbles. Aemond's oddly vacant gaze fills enough to seem haunted.

"Even what?" innocent Helaena asks. Rhaenyra's eyes turn oddly concerned.

"There's no reason why I should need to knock," Alicent reminds them yet again. "You shouldn't be doing anything that would warrant me knocking."

Aegon slides over to Helaena, who wears her damp hair in a twist identical to Rhaenyra's. And, to Alicent's horror, has borrowed one of Rhaenyra's dresses in a very similar structure, or rather, lack of structure, to that dress. Only this one is in deep blue linen lined with gold embroidered borders and belt. Thankfully, it at least lacks the obscene neckline of its counterpart.

Still, Alicent has never before noticed how alike they look.

Aegon actually wraps his arm around a surprised, but also strangely relaxed, Helaena. "We are two married couples, Mother," he so helpfully reminds her.

"It's daytime. And you're all together!"

"That's not the point," Rhaenyra says, and then sits up enough to turn to Helaena. Alicent pretends not to notice how Aemond seizes upon Rhaenyra's distraction to eye her friends. She almost prefers Aegon's open admiration to the way Aemond sneaks glimpses like a boy steals sweets. "Hāedar," she says. "Do you like it when your mother doesn't knock?

So now she means to weaponize Helaena's impressionability?

"No?" says Helaena. And then she looks nervously to each of them before continuing. "But it's alright, it's simply one of my eccentricities. It hurts when the door opens. I'm alone and then I'm not, and I never know when it will change."

"Ah," says Rhaenyra, "I understand." She sits up on her knees to address Alicent. "You see Alicent. Some people like to go swimming. Or wade into the ocean. Mayhaps even sit and wait for the ocean. Sometimes, we even do so because it's necessary. But I cannot think of many people who like to be on dry land one moment and then thrown into the ocean the next." And then she seems to find herself lost in her head a moment before continuing. "Or held down by a shark and a squid as the waves roll in."

"What?"

"No one likes that type of unexpected change," Rhaenyra declares. She too pretends not to notice where both her brothers now look, but she certainly takes her time lowering herself back down out of easy view.

"Oh, speaking of metal forks," Aegon says, "I think I have some bad news about the squid, Mandia."

Rhaenyra falls far back into the cushions. "Ugh, don't tell me."

Alicent sighs, and returns to the issue at hand. One of them, at least. "Why are you all sitting on the floor?"

"We're on cushions," Rhaenyra says.

"On the floor."

Rhaenyra does her best approximation of a philosopher's stare. "Isn't everything, 'on the floor' then, Alicent?" Aemond, Helaena, and Aegon gasp as if this is some revelation.

Refusing to let Rhaenyra endanger her position by antagonizing Aemond's mother in his presence, Alicent shifts focus back to all the siblings. "Why did you send Daeron away?" Alicent demands. "You shouldn't have a sibling gathering and exclude him."

But Rhaenyra refuses to be helped. "Who's Daeron?"

All three of her siblings laugh.

"Be serious," Alicent says.

Aegon points to the door with his thumb. "Didn't you see the sign? No virgins allowed."

Rhaenyra smirks. "And that applies to you too."

Aegon laughs. Aemond and Helaena simply observe curiously, but also vacantly. Too vacantly. And now that she looks closer she can see the siblings share another trait.

"Why do you all have red eyes?" Alicent prods, scouring the corner for illicit material. The low table at the heart of the corner contains tea, a tall and ornate silver incense burner with a strangely long and sinuous neck, some kind of tabletop game with Valyrian text, and a spread comprised of some foods Alicent is familiar with and others she recognizes only enough to know them as Essosian.

There is shockingly no alcohol that she can see, so she turns her suspicions to the tea. Aegon offers little protest as she picks up his cup to sniff. There is nothing illicit present that she can identify by scent.

"It's just tea, Mother," Aemond assures her.

Rhaenyra picks up her own tea. "If our eyes are still red, it's only from the dust we disturbed to retrieve this game from the crates. There was quite a lot of it."

Aegon clears his throat. "Yes. It's fortunate we already had the supplies needed to treat our coughs."

Alicent turns her eyes to the silver burner. "Or it's your incense. It's too strong." One herb in particular even clings to her throat.

Alicent swears she sees Rhaenyra touch Aemond for a moment. He reclines back to sink into the pillows. "It's for the irritation from the dust, Mother," he then says to the ceiling.

She lets it go, hoping that Aemond will be enough to ensure they at least arrive at dinner sound of mind. Enough that they'll sit at the table, rather than on the floor. But she also doesn't like the way Aemond refuses to look at her whilst she demands truth, so she plays it safe. And fair. "I'm sending Daeron back," Alicent says. And his sensibilities.

All four groan. Even Helaena.

Alicent sighs. "You shouldn't exclude him."

Aegon devours a flatbread covered in spices and sauce as he speaks. "I do believe he excludes himself by being a virgin, Mother."

Rhaenyra joins in. "And his 'Valyrian' is even more painfully Andal than Aemond's."

Aemond sits upright. "What?"

"Ha! You need to party with more travellers, baby brother."

Rhaenyra touches Aemond's shoulder, and speaks softly and reassuringly in Valyrian, before closing in Common. "We can work on it." She turns to Helaena. "You too, Hāedar."

Aemond smiles at the floor, and then nods, trying to act unaffected.

Alicent leaves them to their possible mischief after that. She's seen enough.

The dresses, the food, the games, the furniture, the language switching, and she suspects even that strange incense are not just for Rhaenyra's own comfort. She would not put this much effort into changing her quarters and entertaining her captors without an ulterior motive. It's clear she deems Aegon sufficiently trained and has now set her ambitions higher.

Rhaenyra means for Aemond to see her as his key to Valyria. And it's working.

With Ser Criston confined, Alicent finds Ser Willis awaiting her when she leaves Rhaenyra's suite. Having little need for a midday meal with such a large breakfast behind them, and such a large dinner ahead of them, Alicent forgoes returning to the Tower to dine with her father for a brief outdoor tea with her brother.

She allows for some small talk before she addresses her concerns. "Gwayne," she says in the sternest voice she can manage. "I need to know if you plan for any petty stunts to make Rhaenyra suffer."

Gwayne becomes very interested in finishing his cookie. Slowly. "What do you mean?" he finally says.

"Prince Daemon is gone," Alicent reminds him, though she knows that none of them believe that true forever. "Do not punish Rhaenyra for his actions two decades past."

"Right," he says. "Because Rhaenyra is so innocent."

Alicent is caught off guard. What did Rhaenyra do to earn his ire? Was there more to her life than Alicent knew?

Oh. Of course there was. Rhaenyra has spent half her life getting away with more than anyone knew. But that doesn't make it right to let her suffer. Though it's not lost upon her that whilst Rhaenyra attempts to manipulate and possibly seduce Alicent's son, Alicent thanklessly attempts to protect not only Rhaenyra's safety, but her dignity.

Their conversation soon escalates into interrogation, and her brother remains frustratingly non-committal. She does at least manage to extract a promise that he has no plans to trip her now that she's injured. She leaves him with an order to find Daeron and send him back to the Holdfast, and a resolution to speak to her father on the matter — hopefully, his warning will register more.

Her father is easy to find, as he oversees the banquet arrangements in the Queen's Ballroom. Secure enough to not need worry about Rhaenyra, the room can also hold one hundred guests comprised of supportive minor lords and spouses, Hightower men, Lord Borros's party, and a few well-timed visitors from the Westerlands.

"No speeches," her father says. "We keep this subtle. Spread the word to all — no one mentions Lucerys. No one mentions any confrontation."

He takes great pains in the seating arrangement.

"It's a delicate balance we must strike," he says. "We need the lords who supported us before to know that… they're getting what they wanted. But we need do so subtly and tastefully, lest we repel those more hesitant."

He was also taking his mission to 'show Rhaenyra her place,' seriously. And literally.

"Really," Alicent says as she reviews the labels. "Rhaenyra at the foot of the table?" And, as requested, between Jason Lannister and her King.

"She's at the 'head.' Best the men get a good view."

Her father, of course, placed himself at the true head, flanked by Lord Borros Baratheon and Ormund Hightower, who'd flown in with Daeron. To her chagrin, Alicent is condemned to not only sit across from Ser Tyland, who in turn is next to innocent Helaena and will no doubt be encouraged by Lord Wylde next to him, but she's also next to Aegon, whom the Council was at least wise enough to seat away from the powerful lords, aside from Lord Jason. She will admit it was a wise choice to place Daeron, right now the least troubled of their dragonriders, next to Lord Borros.

Soon word reaches them of a development regarding Daeron, and Alicent follows her father back to Rhaenyra's suite.

"Where is Daeron?" her father demands as he enters.

"Who?" Rhaenyra says without looking up. Her siblings laugh.

The siblings are no longer on the floor, but their new activity at the dining table is not much better. All four sit utterly enraptured by the sight before them. The table is lined with strange designs of salt, and scattered amongst those lines are six clams. Six clams that, for whatever reason, have those four riveted when they approach.

Her father seethes over Rhaenyra. "I heard you sent him away once again?"

Rhaenyra is the only one to look up — and glare. With the sling doing half the work for her, she folds her good arm over it. "For such an ostensibly well-read man, you certainly have trouble reading, Lord Hand."

"What?"

"No. Virgins."

Aegon and Aemond snicker. For a moment. But then those snickers turn to full laughs when they see the confusion and rage mix across the Hand's face.

Helaena looks confused for a moment, before something occurs to her. "Oh, right." She looks to Rhaenyra. "Two-fold mockery."

Rhaenyra nods to Helaena before turning back to Alicent. "Look what you've done." She gestures to the clams. "Your virgin energy has caused them to literally clam up."

She appraises the siblings. And whilst they do still seem somewhat off, their eyes are no longer red at least. She starts with the basics. "Why is the table full of clams?"

"We tried to race them," Aemond says, "but it apparently doesn't work like that."

Her father surveys the room. And the corner. "You've certainly made changes."

Rhaenyra gives him her courtly smile. "The air at and within Dragonstone is a bit too damp and cold for this setup. I couldn't resist taking advantage of King's Landing's more forgiving climate."

"It looks like a pillow house."

"And tell me, Lord Hand," Rhaenyra challenges. "How many pillow houses have you frequented?" She puts her free hand up. "That's not an insult. If you do, that is. In fact, why don't you do us all a favour and learn what the inside of a pillow house looks like."

Aemond studies his Grandsire with fascination. But the Hand is not given the chance to sputter out a reply.

"One's back!" Helaena says. The siblings return to the object of their fascination. One of the clams has opened enough for the meat to venture out of the shell and reach for the salt.

It licks the salt like a tongue.

Her father scrunches his face. "That's foul."

Rhaenyra tuts. "Of course you would say that." She turns to Helaena. "He thinks it's licking the salt."

"It's a foot, not a tongue, Grandsire. Wait. Why is the tongue gross?"

"Because Grandsire is a terrible lover," Aegon says. "Gods, imagine if he saw it squ—"

"Valonqar," Rhaenyra says. "They are not ready." But she does point to the clam. "Take note, Alicent. Get your fill now so you needn't ruin this banquet with your fixation."

"What are you talking about?" Alicent asks. How does Rhaenyra bring everything bad back to Alicent?

"Father's fiftieth name day? You made that spectacle."

"I beg your pardon?" her father rages. "I do believe it was your bastard who spat in my daughter's face."

Rhaenyra maintains her composure. A frustrating gift her arrogance has left her with. "Do you want another Sunfyre-shark disaster? We're running low on uninjured people as it is."

Not again. "Why do you keep talking about sharks?" Alicent asks.

"Metal forks," Aegon explains.

Rhaenyra nudges Helaena, who'd turned her attention back to the clam. "Remember what we said about science experiments, Hāedar?"

"Oh, right," Helaena says. And then she turns back to the conversation. Experiment, Alicent thinks she mouths to herself.

Rhaenyra gives a long look to Aemond before turning her attention to all her siblings. "Your mother would not stop pestering Daemon about our… intimate relations. And my 'recovery'. In front of Father!" She turns back to Alicent and dramatically rests her hand upon her heart. "In front of the children, Alicent. It was highly inappropriate. Jace nearly choked to death out of horror at your worst comment."

Helaena blinks. "Oh, I remember."

Is she… she cannot seriously think she can turn that night in her favour. "Rhaenyra," Alicent says. "That is not what happened."

But Rhaenyra just shakes her head. "Tell me, Alicent. Was it just morbid curiosity, or were you trying to turn Father against us by drawing attention to matters he did not wish to think about?"

Aemond watches their exchange in silent contemplation. Mayhaps he'd forgotten this side of Rhaenyra. Alicent can only hope Rhaenyra does not go so far as to endanger herself beyond Alicent's help.

"What was the last comment?" Helaena asks. "I… didn't understand what made everyone laugh at the end; I just joined in because everyone else was."

Rhaenyra continues her theatrics. "Your mother made a scene pretending not to know what cunnilingus was! She was simply determined to force Daemon to explain in front of Father and the children! And then at the end, she made the most obscene jape. That's when poor innocent Jace choked."

"That's not what happened!" Alicent says, in a tone indicating that the matter is settled.

"What's cunnilingus?" Helaena asks to Alicent's horror.

"Aegon!" Rhaenyra chides for some reason. Why she would direct her ire at Aegon of all people, Alicent has no idea.

Rhaenyra then turns to Helaena. "I'll explain later."

"No you will not!" her father shouts.

"Fine," Rhaenyra says. "Your husband can explain. And mayhaps demonstrate."

"Rhaenyra!" Alicent and her father both yell. But she's determined to remain unaffected by reason. Or propriety.

Rhaenyra instead pretends to be affected. "Very well," she sighs. "I know my place. Apologies, Hāedar."

And then she turns to her brothers and addresses them in Valyrian. She closes with four words in Common before both erupt into laughter.

Roll off the tongue.

"Seven Hells, Mother," Aegon says once recovered. "I never knew your humour could reach such levels of depravity."

Rhaenyra turns to Aegon, and they converse more in Valyrian. And laugh.

At Alicent.

Her father graciously steps up for her. "Enough! Stop talking around Alicent in Valyrian. It's disrespectful."

Rhaenyra pointedly looks around. "I'm sorry, is this not the palace of a Valyrian House? Isn't it more disrespectful to marry into a Valyrian family, raise Valyrian children, and instead of taking an interest in learning the mother tongue of your children, forbid them from speaking it in your presence because you feel excluded?"

She cannot possibly be condemning Alicent for not learning an entire language, for what? Secret japes?

Rather than lecture Rhaenyra, she opts for a diplomatic reply. "Other matters demanded my attention."

But Rhaenyra will not let it go. "You know, Alicent. I once thought you had a real interest in Valyrian."

Helaena cocks her head. "Mother has no interest in Valyria."

Rhaenyra turns to address Alicent's children. "When Father was in his mourning period after we lost my mother, he channelled much of his time and energy into studying the histories for this model. Your mother was practically his assistant." She raises her hand to her chin and pretends to consider. "I think, that is. I don't know for sure, I didn't really stay up that late."

Unbelievable.

Her father seems immobilized with rage on Alicent's behalf, so it falls to Alicent to give Rhaenyra a chance to retreat. "Sorry?" she prompts.

But Rhaenyra just takes it further. "I just find it sad that you once had such a passion, and felt the need to give it up when you were married. Mayhaps, now that you're unattached, you might find the time for it again."

"Enough!" her father shouts, now red in the face. "I will not have you inventing slanders to sully my daughter's reputation."

"Why would Rhaenyra do that?" Helaena asks.

Rhaenyra widens her eyes as if hurt by the implication. "I would never even consider falling to such a low," she says. "Regardless of whether I believed a rumour true, I would never further any story that could harm your mother." She shakes her head. "Even when I heard the worst of them, I would tell people 'no more.' Even if the words were not directed at me. Even the rumours regarding those visits, whenever I overheard one, I would go up to whoever I heard whisper, and I would say, 'absolutely not.'"

Alicent looks to her children. Aegon watches with humour, but Helaena and Aemond both marvel at her the same way they did for the clam. She cannot believe this. Who is this for? Does she think she can make Alicent believe these rumours existed? Does she think she can make Alicent's children believe these rumours still existed?

Alicent's mouth already hangs open when she forms the only reply she can. "Rhaenyra."

Rhaenyra takes the hint — and immediately discards it. "I'm not saying there's truth to them. I'm just saying, they existed, and I did not engage with them. And I wasn't exactly happy with you at the time."

"Rhaenyra, you're making things up! As always!" How does she think, after all that's happened, she can still get away with this?

"No, I'm telling you I never made them up. I didn't even spread them. That's what I'm trying to tell you."

"Rhaenyra," she reasons. "There was no speculation because there was nothing to speculate about!"

Rhaenyra nods. "Best leave it there then. There's no point in fixating over rumours long past."

Aegon wrings his hands and smiles predatorily. "What kind of rumours?"

"Oh… what was it. That one where you were with child and that's why father picked you over Laena."

"That's not true!"

"I know, Alicent. That's what I keep saying. I never believed it, and I certainly never believed the one involving Daemon."

"What rumour?" Alicent demands, knowing very well that Rhaenyra will not be able to answer with any story resembling reality. She's too affronted to worry about letting Rhaenyra compromise her positon that depends on Aemond's goodwill.

"Oh," Rhaenyra says. "If you don't know, I'm not going to repeat it."

"Rhaenyra."

Rhaenyra withholds for a few more moments before answering. "Alright. But remember, you asked. The one where you thought you were with child and so Father decided to marry you to protect your honour. But then you found out you weren't and panicked. So you sought out a… substitute."

Aegon gasps and jumps to his feet. "Prince Daemon could be my father?" Then he sinks back into the chair. "Oh no… this really makes last night's dream confusing."

Her father stops just short of clutching at his head. Alicent wonders if he holds back only because of Helaena's presence. "He's not your father, Aegon," he says as calmly as he can. But his face still twists with rage.

Aegon nods. "You're right. He's not a Father, he's a Kepa."

Alicent decides to end this farce — with reason. "He wasn't even in King's Landing then!"

Rhaenyra holds her good arm up. "I didn't say I believed it. But regardless of whether I did, I promise, I would never spread it."

Her father rustles his keyring and removes one to offer the Helaena. "Could you run this down to one of the stewards in the Queen's Ballroom? I don't want to entrust it to a servant."

Helaena nods, but she hesitates before she leaves.

Once clear, her father looms over Rhaenyra, shaking with rage. Aemond watches with… fascination as the Hand admonishes Rhaenyra in a tone that makes even Alicent want to flinch. "I will not have you making desperate attempts to reduce Alicent's reputation in hopes of salvaging your own. Let me be clear. Your reputation is beyond saving, anymore than we choose to save you. The truth is un—

Rhaenyra sighs and slumps back into the seat. "Gods be good, I finally know why you all are so boring. Repetition, repetition, repetition."

"Repetition is how one learns," her father lectures.

Rhaenyra narrows her eyes. "I don't know about that. People learn to ignore repetitive irritants they don't want to engage with all the time. Isn't that why you all ignore Aegon?"

"Ha! Oh, wait."

Her father huffs. "Enough. I'm sending for Daeron to return—"

"Who?"Aegon says. Rhaenyra and Aemond laugh.

"Stop it!" her father orders. "He's not to leave until you boys do. Clearly, you need supervision, but I do not have the time."

Rhaenyra and Aemond exchange a troubling, conspiratorial look. "Right," Rhaenyra says. "You're too busy to not overreact."

Her father glares. "Be ready by sunset," he orders.

"Worry not," Rhaenyra says. "Your trophy queen will be polished and ready for display."

Rhaenyra is bitter. Rhaenyra is scared. Rhaenyra is lashing out at every easy target, because that's all she knows how to do. She cannot help it. So Alicent guides her father out before Rhaenyra can condemn herself any further.

Rhaenyra's voice follows them out the doors. "Beware the path before you, Valzȳrysītsos."

Says the woman on a path to self-destruction.

She invites Lord Borros for a late midday stroll.

"Have you made your decision regarding the betrothal?" Alicent asks.

Lord Borros nods. "Prince Daeron is a fine young man. He decided that Cassandra would be most appropriate, given her status as the eldest. Though I did warn him that she will likely not remain my heir. Still, it's commendable that he did not spurn her simply for a prettier face."

"Lady Cassandra is a beauty in her own right," Alicent says. "I am certain they will make for a smart match."

"I do have one request," he says. "Rather than send Cassandra here, I would prefer for them to familiarize themselves at Storm's End." He leaves the rest unspoken, but it's there none-the-less. The men of the Council had traded countless japes over the past few days of Lord's Borros's many delays. Many delays in fear of the Velaryon fleet and Black dragons.

He doesn't just want a royal guest. He wants a dragonrider for a protector.

As little as she likes the idea of young Daeron entering battle, she knows Vermax is not much larger than Tessarion, so not large enough for Jacaerys to risk a confrontation. So Alicent accedes, on the condition Floris be sent forth at once. The Council had made that priority clear as well — and not because of Alicent's staffing shortage.

"Yes," Lord Borros says, trying his best to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "You will have your hostage." But he must deem it a fair enough price for a dragon protecting his castle.

She gives them a few hours before checking on their behaviour. And Daeron's inclusion.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," says one of the soldiers at Rhaenyra's door. "His Grace ordered they not be disturbed for at least an hour.

Oh no. "Who is in there?" Alicent asks.

"Rhaenyra, His Grace, Prince Aegon, Princess Helaena, and Prince Daeron."

"You're certain Daeron remains?"

"No one has left."

But knowing Rhaenyra, that does not rule out the worst options, so Alicent presses forward into the room.

The men sigh, but no one stops her.

The room is dark, and that strange incense has returned, hanging heavy in the air. She trips over something that trigger chimes, and barely manages to stay upright.

What in the seven realms?

But there's no orgy, so she considers herself fortunate.

Four sleep in the lounge area. Aemond and Helaena each have a daybed for themselves, and Aegon and Daeron have made a large bed out of the floor cushions.

The shades have been drawn to block the sunlight, except perhaps in the annex, as a flash of light bleeds through the gaps in of the curtains. But it's gone so quickly Alicent cannot be sure if she imagined it.

"Alicent?" Rhaenyra calls, her voice thick with sleep, or whatever those four have been doing. She emerge from behind the curtains.

"What are you doing?" Alicent asks.

"Shh." Rhaenyra surveys the sleeping siblings. "Napping? Helaena, Aemond and I were up early, Aegon was up late, and Daeron is feeling unwell. And now we're to be up late once more at the banquet."

"Why are you hiding alone—"

"I'm a woman grown. I'm not going to sleep on cushions when my bed is right there, especially like this." She twists to hold her sling up for emphasis. "And I'm certainly not inviting my brothers into my bed. I have yet to reach that stage of desperation."

Rhaenyra wavers as she stands, and Alicent suspects she actually is as tired as she claims. So despite her poor conduct, towards Alicent, she decides to leave Rhaenyra the benefit of the doubt.

Though she disapproves of the fact that that the one activity those four deigned to include Daeron in was nap time. Oh well, at least their heads will be clear. "Very well," Alicent says. "You have several more hours before you need get ready, you may have that time to yourselves."

She lets Rhaenyra return to the annex. Alone.

She passes the rest of the day arranging her new quarters in the Tower. She expects Daeron to return as she readies herself, but he makes no appearance.

They're not readying themselves in Rhaenyra's room, are they? Surely not together.

But after that show at breakfast, Alicent wouldn't put it past Rhaenyra to suggest that they help each other with their clothes and hair. Though Alicent does admit it's clever — offering Aemond the extra hand he needs, whilst making him feel useful and bonding over their shared injuries.

Would she have been so quick to lend a hand to Aemond, had she known how he truly broke that hand?

But she puts the thought aside when her father knocks on her door. "Daeron will not be returning before the banquet," he informs her. "And he might need to miss it entirely, or at least, part of it."

"What happened?"

He shakes is head. "Lord Borros pushed him too far into indulgence last night. Aegon cited his experience to declare that his state was worsened by eating something that disagreed with him."

Ah. All that foreign food and spice Rhaenyra had set out.

Her father continues. "He's been feeling worse throughout the day, so we've given him a room in the Holdfast to recover. Hopefully he does so before it's over, but he doesn't really seem interest in rising."

Alicent rubs her hands to keep herself from picking at them. Right now Daeron is their most reliable Targaryen. But he's also been pushed so far this past week, especially for a boy of five-and-ten. A continental journey, being thrown into this political mess, pushing himself to illness whilst trying to impress Lord Borros, and now he's to move again to defend the Stormlands on his own.

He deserves the break, as inconvenient as the timing might be.

Aemond and Aegon, to their credit, arrive in the Ballroom not long after Alicent. And though both still seem somewhat dazed, they are at least coherent.

Aegon approaches and pretends to be startled when Aemond turns. "Oh, sorry, I thought you were one of our sisters!" He then grabs a strand of Aemond's freshly washed hair. "I assume this means you found the purple hair cleanser I brought to the girls," he announces as if he wants the whole, slowly filling room to hear.

Tyland slides into his seat, woefully across from Alicent, drink in hand. He laughs. "Purple? Why purple?"

Aegon smiles as he rounds the table to his seat — next to Alicent. "Something the more vain women of the family like to do. They set purple into their hair to obscure the yellow and give it that extra…" he makes a pop motion by flexing both hands. "I brought the box to Rhaenyra when I found it during Aemond's move, since I assumed he only had it by accident." He then eyes Aemond like a dragon who wants his meal to first double as entertainment.

Aemond stiffens for but a moment, then relaxes back into his seat. "Your hair is looking bright as well, Lēkia. You wouldn't have happened to borrow it?"

Aegon proudly swishes his mane, which Alicent can now see is brighter than usual. "Yes, my impeccable style transcends my sex. But I'm not the one with a secret hiding place for my shameful box of girl hair products."

Aegon. Can he go one day without antagonizing his brother?

Aemond picks up his drink. "I wasn't hiding it from anyone but you, Aegon. Because I knew that you'd want some, but they're a pain to procure so you'd just end up constantly stealing mine. Which you did."

Aegon deflates. "Oh." He ruminates for a time, until Lord Wylde joins them. Aegon looks to Ser Tyland and a smile returns to his face. "I wonder if the cleanser would brighten your cat's coat, since her fur is so light. By the way, have you chosen a name?" He puts his hands until the table, and only Alicent next to him can see that he wrings them in anticipation.

Oh no.

"I had a thought!" says Ser Tyland on cue. Lord Wylde smirks down at the table. "What about Brightroar?"

Aemond pretends to consider. "Mhmm, not a bad suggestion."

For a moment Alicent wonders if Ser Tyland will be brave enough to repeat his jape in front of both Aemond and the Hand, but Aegon frees them from that question. He beams at Aemond across the table as he speaks. "Oh. Wait. I don't think it would be appropriate. Isn't Brightroar a lost Valyrian steel sword?"

With Aegon making himself the instigator, Ser Tyland and Lord Wylde deem it safe to laugh. And ignore her father's glare.

"I don't follow," Aemond says, looking both bored and dazed.

"You know," Aegon goads. "Because you lost a Valyrian steel sword!"

Aemond just shrugs. "So?"

"So it's funny because—"

"I don't know, Aren't most namesakes either dead or lost? I think you're reaching." He turns to Ser Tyland. "Thank-you. I'll consider it."

Aemond then excuses himself to mingle with the men who trickle in. Her father soon takes his leave to check on Daeron and remind all present to not mention Lucerys or Storm's End, or speak openly of Rhaenyra's captivity in Helaena's presence. Alicent follows to do the same.

They all return once Lord Ormund joins their table, Lord Borros not far behind. The room is nearly full, but neither Helaena or Rhaenyra are to be seen. Actually, hardly any women are to be seen.

Lord Jason is the last of the men, save for Daeron, to join them. He takes his place across from Aemond and looks to the empty seat at the 'head.' "Your Grace," he says. "So unfortunately that we've seen so little of each other. My brother has been somewhat of a recluse for my visit, with his injury." Ser Tyland gives him a warning look, but Lord Jason proceeds with a smirk. "How terrifying it must have been, fending off a mad Queen."

Aemond joins him in appraising the injured twin. "That was actually my wedding gift. I was complaining of how annoying it was, trying to tell you two apart." And then he looks across to Aegon to say something in Valyrian. They both laugh.

The official part of the dinner should have commenced by now, but, to her father's annoyance, they are still missing some crucial members.

Lord Jason notices. "Where are your wives?" he asks of the boys.

Aegon and Aemond actually smirk at each other before Aemond addresses Lord Jason. "I believe they are still readying themselves."

"They wouldn't let us watch," Aegon complains.

Lord Jason chuckles. "This is why men wage war. Because women would never be ready for the battle in time." He waits a moment for applause that does not come before changing the subject. "And Prince Daeron?"

"Who?" Aegon says. He and Aemond proceed to laugh under their breath.

"He is unwell," Alicent answers. But she now has a troubling feeling. She turns to her father, who had left the ballroom shortly prior to check on him. "Has he improved?"

He shakes his head. "Still sleeping when I saw him. I say we leave him be."

Aemond and Aegon both shake as they hide their faces in their hands.

What has Rhaenyra done to Alicent's children?

Aegon answers that question for her. "Now remember, everyone," he calls to the whole table. "If you're going to be around Rhaenyra, you should not be thinking about how Vhagar secretly ate her son."

The men at the table groan. Her father takes a strong interest in directing the attention of Lord Borros and Ormund to his side of the table.

Aegon presses forward. "When in doubt, or need of distraction, just look at Rhaenyra's tits."

"That's good life advice for any occasion," says Ser Tyland.

Alicent does not scold any of them. In addition to the goal of seducing her sons, Rhaenyra has no doubt chosen her recent look, with that locket, to force Alicent to think about Rhaenyra's sons. Prince Daemon certainly had his daughter send the locket to force Alicent to think about Luke. "Aemond," she says softly, though she knows the table still hears here. "Don't ask her what's in her locket."

He gives her a quizzical look, as he likely starts to think about why.

Oh no. Too obvious. "It… was from Laenor and Harwin," she explains. "No need to evoke memories of the other night. Especially whilst she's still in a sling."

The men all grumble in agreement, and the conversation turns to Ser Criston.

"Worry not," her father assures their guests, Lord Borros more specifically. "Ser Criston was a unique case, and the matter has been dealt with."

"I disagree," says Aegon of all people. "The shark has tasted blood. You think he won't circle back for more?"

Lord Wylde nods in agreement. "We need keep a close eye on him. Once a dog attacks, I fear you cannot trust them not to do so again."

Aegon tuts. "Mixed metal forks." Then he looks down to the table, and picks up two of his forks. He gasps. "Mixed metal forks," he says to Aemond. Aemond just shakes his head at him.

And then Rhaenyra finally makes her entrance.

They have no one announcing guests for tonight, but the room still quiets when she enters with Ser Harrold. One glance tells Alicent why.

The Velaryons had not sent her any extravagant or formal dresses; Alicent supposes they had not seen the need. But as Rhaenyra always does, she's turned that complication to her advantage. She no doubt spent this morning sifting through gowns brought out of storage.

She wears a silk wrap gown that evokes Valyria. Mayhaps it truly even is Valyrian. The gown is sleeveless and secured with ornate pearl pins at the shoulders, and she's obscured her sling by folding the train of the gown across her forearm, in the classic Valyrian style.

All the men take Aegon's advice, and Rhaenyra certainly makes it easy. Alicent would not think her out of place in a Lysene pillow house. And while she can understand that, given the time constraints, Rhaenyra would need to select a type of dress that is wrapped and pinned to fit, rather than altered, she fails to see why it needs to be that fitted.

Every curve of her body is emphasized.

Her hair completes the Valyrian, or Lysene, image. Curls frame her face and and fall down her back, and half her hair is pulled back and up into complex, pearl-decorated twists that encircle the back and top of her head — like a crown.

An ornate pearl and mixed silver-gold necklace draws attention to the low cut. And while the cut might be what draws the eyes of the room, it's not what draws the whispers.

The dress is green.

Soft green, embroidered with gold, but green nonetheless. She wonders if the colour choice has less to do with seeming aquiescent, and more as spite for Alicent's entrance at Rhaenyra's wedding, when she had finally stood up for herself.

But it doesn't matter what she intended. There are enough men here who were there, enough that a murmur does ripple through.

After spending a moment leering at their sister, Aemond and Aegon smile to each other, and unknowingly complete the ode by standing for their Queen. The others then have no choice but to follow.

Oh. She knows what she's done.

Unfortunately, so does Alicent's brother.

Gwayne was at the wedding. And Gwayne now sits with Hightower men at a table Rhaenyra passes. And though he is still across the room, she knows he wears the same face her father now does. The one that says Rhaenyra has once again forgotten herself.

Rhaenyra needs to be reminded.

She knows what comes next, but she cannot stop it. Nor can Ser Harrold, who'd assumed his station along the far wall. And in truth, she knows not even if someone should.

But she does wish he wouldn't remind her so distastefully. He doesn't just trip her, he kicks her legs out from under her. She's forced to catch herself on the floor with both arms, and Alicent flinches as she imagines how the impact will worsen the injury.

Gwayne laughs. "I suppose in the absence of Prince Daemon's horse, I'll have to settle for one of his whores."

The men at his table, and many Hightower men within room, too many, join in.

Until Rhaenyra enters.

She wears purple, not green. But her hair is done and her dress is cut identically to Helaena's.

Alicent wonders if she's the only one who knows Rhaenyra enough to see that first thought flash across her face, the one she, and Prince Daemon, and even occasionally Aegon had insensitively spoken aloud countless times in similar situations.

I'm so glad that wasn't me!

She's wise enough this time to trade it for concern. It takes her a few seconds, and then she raises the hand of her good arm to her mouth and rushes forward to help her sister.

The laughter dies and the room goes silent, aside from Rhaenyra's voice. "The fuck is wrong with you?" she demands of the men who only now see what they've done.

No one else moves. No one knows how to address this.

Alicent looks to her sons, only to discover they've made it halfway to their sisters. She follows with her father behind her.

Four good arms between them, Rhaenyra, Aemond, and Aegon get their sister up. Thankfully, Helaena seems more shocked and confused than upset. And she too still seems a little dazed. "Wh— why did he do that?" she asks Rhaenyra.

When no answer is offered, Helaena looks for it in the faces of the crowd. But still no one knows what to say.

Except for Rhaenyra. Because Rhaenyra always has something to say. She glares at Gwayne. "I don't know. Why did he? Mayhaps he mistook you for someone else?"

He cannot say it. He cannot say it. No one can say aloud that it's fine, he didn't mean to trip the Princess. He meant to trip the Queen. And that makes it fine. Just a regrettable accident.

Helaena thinks something else. "He said I was a horse?"

"Oh," Aegon mumbles. "A new metal fork?"

Alicent has made it to the smaller crowd that now encircles the siblings, the siblings who face the Hightower men. She catches Rhaenyra's eye.

Do what you do best, Alicent tries to tell her. Lie.

Rhaenyra sighs, and turns to Helaena. She projects her voice for all to hear. "He called you a whore, not a horse. Because he thought you were me. He meant to trip me as revenge for when Daemon tripped his horse. And I suspect he does not like me much regardless."

"He would trip the Queen?"

Rhaenyra starts to fuss over Helaena's dress, putting the folds back into place. "I suppose he was counting on my generous sense of humour. And the fact that his father is the Hand." Rhaenyra looks to Alicent's father, who now stands next to Gwayne.

That isn't enough for Helaena this time. "But… Prince Daemon left. Your marriage was annulled. Why would he punish you?"

Though Rhaenyra had decided to speak truth for what might be the first time in years, she still wears that familiar expression she wears when assessing opportunity.

She takes it, because Rhaenyra will always be Rhaenyra. "I cannot speak to the logic behind the actions of men like your uncle," she says as she smooths Helaena's hair. "The question is, what do you wish to do?"

Helaena nearly jumps. "Me?"

"I'm not the one he tripped. You are. He could have seriously hurt you."

"I…" Helaena searches the crowd until she finds Alicent, who'd approached to stand beside her father and brother. "I don't, I don't think…" she trails off.

Rhaenyra returns to folding Helaena's dress. "You are a Princess of age, Helaena. Rider to the second-largest bonded dragon in the world. And he is nothing more than a son to a second son of a moderately powerful house. You have the authority to order him. Or punish him. So tell us. What is to be done with him, and the men who helped?"

She cannot be serious.

Helaena shakes, utterly overwhelmed. "I… I don't have power like that, Rhaenyra."

"The Hand's power is dependent power. It does not extend to his children. But Father's does. You have the power to decide what is to be done. So tell us, what is to be done?"

Helaena looks around like a child lost in the woods. "I don't know," she says. "I don't, I don't understand these matters."

How can she put this sort of pressure on Helaena? She looks to Aemond, who stands behind the sisters, to signal for him to put a stop to it. But he simply observes the sisters.

Rhaenyra stops her fussing to look solemnly upon her. "No one does, Helaena. No one just knows what to do. That's an illusion we put forward. Most of us just do the best we can, and it hopefully becomes easier the more you practice. So for now, do the best that you can."

"I don't know anything about, about punishment, Rhaenyra."

"Think of these men like your children. You discipline your children yourself, don't you?"

Helaena nods.

"So let's pretend they're your children. What exactly did they do wrong? How would you make it right?"

The room is silent for a good minute before Helaena speaks. "If they were my children, I wouldn't just punish them. That doesn't work for people or for animals. I would want them to learn why it's wrong." She disappears into her head for a few moments. "He called me, you, a whore? And… I suppose, he doesn't have much respect for women? That's why he thought it was alright. So… he should learn. They all should learn why it's wrong."

Rhaenyra smiles in approval. "And how should they do that?"

"They should…" Her eyes light up. "There's a motherhouse in the city. They help women in need. Even… wh— women who work at night. They can assist the motherhouse."

"Good. Now you need to get specific. For how long?"

"Umm… a fortnight? A fortnight of helping all day, every day. And then the rest of the moon they may return to their other duties, and continue to help in their free time."

Rhaenyra turns to her brothers. "I think our dear sister is wise, and merciful, beyond her years. At her age, I would have started taking parts."

"You cannot be serious," Gwayne protests. He looks to their father.

"Why are you looking to the Hand?" Rhaenyra asks oh-so-innocently. "He does not rank highest in room. I am too involved to consider myself impartial. And my delicate mind is not as it should be right now. So I suppose… You should be beseeching the King, should you not?"

The room turns to Aemond, who stands just a bit too laconically. He shrugs. "I have no objection." He then addresses the Hand. "See it done. All the men who stood with him as well."

"Your Grace," the Hand says just a bit too coldly. "Is that really… proportional? Helaena's involvement was an accident, and she is unharmed. Ser Criston was only confined for two days."

Did he just challenge the King's judgement in front of everyone?

"The shark is trapped," Helaena mumbles. She looks at Rhaenyra, who'd returned to readjusting Helaena's dress with Aegon as assistant. "The shark was trapped." Rhaenyra stiffens, but then resumes to her task. Alicent realizes this could be her first glimpse at just how lost Helaena can become in her own mind.

Aemond considers the Hand's argument, and then he nods. "Very well." The room relaxes, but he turns back to Gwayne. "Ser Criston will assist you with your good work."

Rhaenyra looks up. "No damage," she then assures Helaena. She turns to Aemond. "She's good to go."

"Good," Aemond says. And then he turns on the Hand. "See it done," he orders. "You may delegate to someone else if you wish to remain for dinner, just be sure to do so at once."

And that's it. The Hand cannot disobey a King's order given in front of scores of men. The Hand cannot even decide to neglect to follow through. There are too many present who will take note. So, with great mirth he orders Gwayne and his accomplices to return to their rooms until morning, so a trusted Septa might make the arrangements.

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra had been whispering to Aemond, who then demands the room's attention. "I suggest we now act like that did not happen," he says. "No need to let good food, and company, go to waste."

Everyone is grateful, and eager, to take that suggestion as an order.

They return to their table. Aemond and Aegon both gallantly pull the chairs out for their wives — and their friends. Rhaenyra kisses Aemond cheek, takes her seat at the head of the table, and smiles pointedly to Alicent. "Blessed evening, Good Mother."

Aegon chokes on his laugh.

The gods are testing her. And so is Rhaenyra. She wants to see just how far she can push Alicent. Why is she trying to make an enemy out of Alicent of all people?

I am the one person fully committed to her safety, and still she cannot resist.

And that's exactly why. Because Rhaenyra must know that no matter how much she provokes Alicent, Alicent will not endanger her life. She's wielding Alicent's mercy against her.

Rhaenyra gasps. The table turns to her. "Oh," she says, rubbing her bad shoulder. "I must have stretched it wrong. It's fine, pay no mind to me." But Alicent sees her continue to shift from the corner of her eye. Mayhaps she needs more attention from the Grandmaester.

Only one course in, and Helaena is lost once more. "The shark swims with the sea monsters, but he is not one of them. He comes from other waters."

Rhaenyra watches Helaena. Eyes narrowed not with concern, but with interest. She waits for the attention to shift to the food and the servants before looking to Helaena. "Actually sweet sister, I think the fall did jostle the wrap. Why don't we step into the service room to… touch up." She looks to both her brothers. "Come, between us all it should not take long."

The boys rise too eagerly, and the four of them trade more conspiratorial looks. Aegon grabs a lit candle and Rhaenyra inclines her head toward a small connected service room.

Her siblings follow her like baby ducks.

And the moment Rhaenyra is gone, the moment Alicent no longer need look at her, or Helaena, Alicent can finally consider that suspicion. Because the events leading up to dinner worked out far to well for Rhaenyra, and Alicent must now ask that question.

Did Rhaenyra spend the day turning Helaena into her look-alike, just so she could send her in as bait? Alicent cannot know for certain.

Is Rhaenyra capable of stooping so low? That, Alicent does know for certain. She turns to Daeron's empty seat, and thinks of how convenient his absence is for Rhaenyra.

She slides into Daeron's empty seat between Lord Borros' and her own to put herself closer to her father. "When was the last time you checked on Daeron? Mayhaps we should have the Grandmaester see to him."

"Less than an hour ago," he replies.

But Alicent is unconvinced. "And… how was he? Were you unable to rouse him or did he refuse to be roused?" She's seen enough forced addling this past fortnight to be suspicious. She can only hope her father has too.

Her father does seem to pick up the implication. "I… I don't know. I called his name a few times but he was in too deep asleep. His breathing seemed regular, at the least."

"But did you look closely at him? Or have the Grandmaester look?"

"No… But I did not want to disturb him if he needed to sleep tha—" he sighs. Her father has also seen enough addling recently. He rises. "Grandmaester!" he calls to adjacent table. "With me now."

Alicent follows them up the stairs to a small dimly lit spare room. Daeron lays burrowed into the blanket, with only the back of his head poking out. Alicent steps forward. "Daeron?" She gently prods what she assumes is his shoulder.

Daeron squawks.

"What—" her father begins, but he swallows his words when Alicent rips off the blanket.

Pancake glares up at her, affronted at the lowly human who dares disturb her slumber within her cozy, human-shaped nest of pillows and blankets. But Pancake is not the only occupant of this nest of lies. She shares it.

With that fucking mop.